


Getting to Know You

by cirnellie_x



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Minor spoilers for BvS: Dawn of Justice, Romance, Slow Burn, past Clark Kent/Lois Lane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirnellie_x/pseuds/cirnellie_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha Kent thinks it would be a wonderful idea for Clark to invite that nice friend of his over for dinner so that she can thank him for saving her life. Clark isn’t too sure about this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to Know You

**Author's Note:**

> Translation in русский by [_Lily_Smith_](https://ficbook.net/authors/1370479) available [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4999715)!
> 
>  
> 
> Movieverse; set post-BvS: Dawn of Justice. AU in that Clark doesn’t know Batman’s real identity here.
> 
> Author is new to this fandom and has read only the Batman comics but not Superman or Justice League, so please forgive any inconsistencies with the wider DCU!

 

 

“Clark, honey,” Martha Kent called, standing at the foot of the stairs. “Breakfast’s almost ready.”

There was the creak of a door opening, then Clark appeared at the top of the stairs, sleepy-eyed, buttoning up a shirt. “’Morning, Ma. I’ll be right down.”

Clark entered the kitchen to the delicious smell of frying bacon. “Eggs are on the table, dear,” said Martha, bustling over with a saucepan and scooping a generous helping of bacon onto a plate, handing it to him.

Clark took the plate with one hand, gently touching his mother’s cheek with the other, tilting her head up to examine the fading bruise over her eye, a souvenir of Lex Luthor’s kidnap attempt a week prior.

“Oh, sweetheart, stop worrying,” said Martha, batting Clark’s hand away. “It’s healing well. And stop looking at me like that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But – ”

“No,” Martha said firmly. “With your powers, there’s always going to be someone out there who wants something from you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – you don’t owe this world anything.”

“Maybe it’s for the best that people believe you’re gone,” she continued, putting the saucepan down on the table and taking Clark’s hand in both of hers. “Take the time you need, honey, and figure out what you want to do now. You don’t have to go back to Metropolis right away. This is your home, too.”

“Thanks, Ma,” said Clark, bending down to kiss Martha’s cheek. He touched the corner of her eye gently. “It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“Oh! It doesn’t hurt at all. And other than the eye, I’m completely fine – that friend of yours kept me safe. Such a nice boy, and with such lovely manners, too.”

That startled a laugh out of Clark. He thought to himself that _that_ was one description of Batman he’d never heard before.

“Speaking of your friend,” Martha added brightly, “why don’t you invite him over for dinner?”

Clark stared at her. “What?”

“I’d like to thank him for saving me,” said Martha. “And you know I’m always happy to meet my son’s friends.”

“Er,” hedged Clark. “I don’t think he really does dinners.”

“Nonsense,” said Martha briskly. “Everyone has to eat sometime.”

“I suppose?” said Clark doubtfully. He tried – and failed utterly – to imagine Batman sitting down for dinner in his mother’s cozy dining room.

“Well, that’s settled, then,” said Martha cheerfully. “Bring him over tomorrow. I’ll make something nice for you both.”

 

***

 

Clark only realized that he didn’t actually know how to find Batman after he’d suited up, flown over to Gotham and landed on a random rooftop.

After wandering over a couple more rooftops, Clark suddenly realized that of _course_ , the best way to find Batman would be to check if there were any crimes taking place. In Gotham, surely that wouldn’t take long. He kept an ear open, and sure enough, a little under half an hour later, he heard the sound of a scream and a mugging taking place.

He flew over to the source of the noise, ready to help if Batman wasn’t there, but just as he arrived, Batman swung silently in from the rooftops, knocking one thug out by the expedient method of landing on him, and quickly and efficiently trussed up the other. Clark stood by in the shadows, feeling a little useless.

When he was done with the thugs, Batman turned around to face him. “Superman. What are you doing here?”

He didn’t sound hostile, just mildly curious. Clark squared his shoulders, feeling awkward. “Er...I was looking for you, actually.”

“What for?”

“My mother asked me to invite you over for dinner.” Clark felt faintly ridiculous as he said it. “To, uh, thank you for saving her life,” he added.

“No thanks needed,” said Batman, reeling in the line that he’d swung in on.

Clark nodded. “She said you told her that we’re friends.” There was a slight question in his voice.

Batman cocked his head. “When?”

Clark frowned. “Er, when you were rescuing her.”

“No, when does your mother want me to come for dinner.”

“Oh,” said Clark, blinking. “Tomorrow? Seven? I can fly you over – ”

Batman nodded. “I’ll be there.” He shot out a line again and swung upwards, leaving Clark staring incredulously after him.

“And how does he even plan on getting to Kansas,” Clark grumbled to himself.

 

***

 

True to his word, Batman showed up on the doorstep of the Kent farm the next day, at exactly seven o’clock. He handed Clark a bottle of red wine, an excellent vintage.

“This is a very good wine,” said Clark, impressed.

Batman looked affronted. “I wasn’t going to bring your mother _bad wine_.”

Clark blushed. “That’s not what I meant.”

The corner of Batman’s lip curled up. “I know.”

“How did you even get here, anyway?” asked Clark. “I was going to offer to fly you over, but you left rather...quickly.”

“I took my plane,” said Batman. “But the thought is appreciated.”

“You have a plane?” Clark stared at the other man.

Batman shrugged. “Comes in useful for the job.”

“Um, right,” said Clark. He turned and led the way into the house.

Martha came out of the kitchen, beaming at the two men. Batman took her hand in his gloved one, bringing it to his lips. “Mrs. Kent. Thank you for inviting me over.”

“Please, dear, call me Martha,” she told him with a smile. “And any friend of Clark’s is welcome here anytime.”

Dinner was, surprisingly, not as awkward as Clark had expected. Batman proved to have an encyclopedic knowledge of a wide array of subjects, and chatted easily with Martha, who in turn didn’t seem fazed at all at having a fully cowled and heavily armored man sitting next to her superpowered alien son at her dinner table. Clark quietly marveled at how surreal the whole tableau was, as Batman said something that made his mother laugh.

When dinner was over, Batman got up from the table. “I’m sorry to eat and run, but I have to work tonight,” he said to Martha, sounding genuinely regretful.

Martha patted his gloved hand, smiling up at him. “Come again anytime. Clark and I will both be happy to see you.”

Clark got up as well, walking with Batman to the front door to show him out.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, feeling a sudden rush of gratitude for the man who’d not only saved his mother’s life, but also _flown his plane over_ to have dinner with her, shown genuine interest in talking to her and treated her with nothing but warmth and respect. He’d expected polite but detached conversation at best, Batman dutifully fulfilling an obligation, but this was clearly a man who _cared_. He found himself wanting to know more about the other man. They weren’t friends yet, not by a long shot, despite what Batman had said to his mother. But maybe they _could_ be.

He opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch, Batman following behind him. Clark looked around, puzzled. “Where’s your plane?”

“I parked it in the middle of the field behind your house,” replied Batman. His lips quirked ever so slightly. “Didn’t want to scare the neighbors.”

Clark laughed out loud.

 

***

 

A few weeks later, Martha suggested to Clark that he invite Batman over for dinner again. Clark surprised himself by agreeing, then once again went through the whole routine of flying to Gotham and hanging around waiting for a crime to happen, finally finding Batman stopping a robbery of a jewelry store. He landed lightly on the ground a few feet away just as Batman gracefully evaded a wild swing from the single terrified thug left standing, then knocked the man out with a single well-placed punch.

Batman whirled around towards Clark, arm raised, then stopped in mid-swing. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yes, hello,” said Clark. “My mother wants to invite you over for dinner again. Tomorrow?”

Batman stared at him for a long moment, and, just as Clark was starting to wonder if the other man had even heard him, Batman lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Alright.”

He pulled his line from his belt and was just about to grapple away when Clark forestalled him by stepping around right in front of him.

“Look,” said Clark. “Maybe we should work out some way of contacting each other. I can’t keep hanging around here hoping for a crime to happen when I’m trying to find you, it’s making me feel like some kind of vulture, flying around sniffing for blood.”

Batman cocked his head to one side and regarded him with a faintly amused air.

“I’ll bring you a communicator,” he said finally. “Tomorrow.” He disappeared into the shadows just as Clark was opening his mouth to reply.

Clark sighed.

 

***

 

Their dinners turned into something of a regular occurrence after that. Batman brought the communicator that he’d promised Clark, which made it much easier to set up meetings. He even deigned to let Clark fly him over from Gotham once.

Clark found himself increasingly looking forward to their dinners. It was refreshing, being around someone who knew both his identities, and was neither impressed nor intimidated by Superman. He hadn’t really known what to expect, that first time the other man had come to dinner, but it turned out that the two of them actually got along very well now that they weren’t trying to kill each other. He found out that besides having a brilliant mind, Batman also possessed a razor-sharp wit which he occasionally employed to devastating effect. He was also passionate, to the point of almost seeming obsessed, about keeping Gotham safe.

He also discovered that Batman drank both coffee and tea but not wine, and liked his steaks bordering on rare. Batman in full armor, sitting on his mother’s couch and sipping a cup of tea, was no longer a strange sight, although Clark thought he might have to come up for some explanation for the huge flattened patch of grass Batman’s plane was creating in the field behind his house. The neighbors were starting to whisper about crop circles.

 

***

 

Clark couldn’t honestly say that he hadn’t seen the breakup with Lois coming, but that hadn’t made it hurt any less when it _had_ happened.

It was neither of their faults, really – he was still trying to figure out his place in this world and she was busy with her career, and they’d both gradually started to realize that they’d fallen in love too hard and too fast, the flame burning bright and then slowly flickering out.

When she’d pressed the engagement ring he’d bought for her back into his hand, smiling sadly and kissing his cheek, he’d felt, mostly, a kind of quiet resignation. He couldn’t even talk to anyone about it – he didn’t really have any close friends, and the friends he _did_ have were mostly people from the _Planet_ , who all, obviously, also knew Lois, which would make talking about their breakup pretty awkward. Also, they all still thought he was dead, which pretty much precluded any opportunity for conversation.

He’d forgotten that Batman was supposed to come for their bi-weekly dinner that evening, and was sitting on the back porch of the farm with a beer in hand, feeling sorry for himself, when the other man showed up.

“What are you sulking about?” asked Batman, without any preamble.

“I’m not sulking,” said Clark, then realized that actually, he _was_.

Batman brushed a few dead leaves away and sat down next to him. Clark ended up telling him the whole story about Lois and their breakup.

“...and I knew that it was going to happen eventually, but I still feel kind of depressed anyway,” he concluded gloomily.

They sat in silence for a while, broken only by the sound of the wind and a few insects buzzing in the fields.

Batman gestured to the beer bottle dangling from Clark’s hand. “I thought you said it doesn’t have any effect on you.”

“It doesn’t,” said Clark. “It just felt like the appropriate thing to do”, and was Batman _rolling his eyes_ at him?

“Do you want to spar?” said Batman, apropos of nothing.

“What?”

“Do. You. Want. To. Spar,” said Batman patiently. He cracked his knuckles. “A little violence can do wonders for your mood.”

“Sometimes I worry about you,” said Clark, getting up. “Okay, let’s spar.”

“I’ll try not to do any permanent damage to you,” Batman told him, deadpan.

An hour and a half later, they were both stretched out flat on their backs on the ground, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.

“I _do_ feel better,” said Clark, stretching until his joints popped.

“Good for you,” muttered Batman. “ _I_ , on the other hand, have to patrol tonight.”

 

***

 

“I got these files from Diana yesterday,” said Batman. He’d told Clark about the research on metahumans he’d found in LexCorp’s computers, showing him the decrypted surveillance files on a laptop he’d brought with him to the Kent house. Diana had sent him some new information she’d found, which he was now showing to Clark.

“Before you...came back, we agreed that it would be a good idea to try to contact these people,” he continued. “If we could get some people together, form a team, I really think we could do a lot of good.” He clenched his hands on the table. “There are so many people we could help.”

“And if nothing else,” he added with a sigh, “they’d probably at least like to know that they were the subjects of Luthor’s surveillance.”

Clark considered this, feeling a little frisson of excitement at the thought of meeting other people like him – well, not _exactly_ like him, he mentally amended, but people who, like him, had powers, and were able, and hopefully willing, to use them for good. He’d been feeling at loose ends lately, not sure what to do with himself in a world where he was the only one of his kind, but this – maybe _this_ was what he was meant to be doing.

“Let me help,” he said.

Batman’s lips quirked up, and he nodded, pleased. “Of course.”

 

***

 

The morning of the day Batman was due for their next dinner, Clark received a short message on his communicator. It read: “ _Unable to make it for next few meetings. Sorry._ ”

He didn’t see Batman for almost a month after that. Clark had never actively searched out Batman before, trusting that the other man could look after himself, but Batman’s heartbeat was now as familiar to him as his own, and he was just considering using it to locate the other man to check if he was okay, when Batman showed up on his doorstep.

He was as expressionless as ever, but Clark was learning to read all the small signs, and he could tell that Batman was upset by the ever-so-slight slump in his posture.

“Didn’t catch him?” he asked, assuming that Batman had spent the past month chasing a criminal.

Batman shook his head. “It wasn’t work. It was...personal business.”

“Ah,” said Clark, not quite knowing what else to say. He nodded toward the back of the house. Batman followed him through the garden and round to the back, where Clark settled on the steps of the back porch. Batman sat down beside him.

There was a short silence. Clark waited patiently.

“My mother’s name was Martha,” said Batman suddenly. “She and my father were killed – murdered – when I was a child.”

Clark winced. “I’m so sorry,” he said sincerely. He shifted over a little, pressing his shoulder against Batman’s armored one, trying to offer what little comfort he could.

“It was the anniversary of their deaths last month,” continued Batman heavily. “I visit their graves around this time every year.”

Clark nodded. He touched Batman’s arm tentatively. “If you ever want some company...”

“Thank you,” said Batman. “That would be...nice.”

 

***

 

“Oof,” grunted Clark as he hit the ground, Batman’s arm at his throat. “Okay, let’s stop for today. I’m exhausted.”

“Weakling,” grunted Batman, but his lips quirked. He was breathing heavily though, clearly tired as well.

They had started sparring regularly, usually right before their bi-weekly dinners. It had initially been Batman’s suggestion, and Clark had to admit that it was a good one – what Batman lacked in strength compared to Clark, he more than made up for in skill. It was exhilarating, being able to fight someone on equal terms, and they were both getting sharper and faster from the regular practice.

Batman withdrew, getting to his feet. Clark, too, got up, stripping off his sweat-soaked shirt and tossing it on the ground.

“Ah, that felt good.” He stretched luxuriously, relishing the ache from a good workout.

He turned around to face Batman. Batman immediately snapped his gaze away, looking slightly...guilty? His cheeks – or the part of his face not covered by the cowl, at least – were pink, but that was probably just from exertion. Right?

 

***

 

“I talked to Diana again last night,” said Batman. “She thinks she’s made some progress on locating a few of Luthor’s research subjects.”

They were sitting at the dining table in the Kent house, heads bent over Batman’s laptop, which was open on the table. Batman pulled up a collage of images captured from the files he’d downloaded and decrypted, pointing out the ones Diana had talked about, telling Clark what she’d told him about each one.

“I’m having lunch with her tomorrow,” he concluded. “I need to cross-reference the intel she has with what I’ve found.” He tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought.

“You two have been spending a lot of time working on this,” said Clark. He was absolutely not jealous. That would be ridiculous.

He got up to get a soda out of the refrigerator, slamming the refrigerator door just a little harder than he’d intended. The door handle snapped off in his hand. Clark stared down at it and sighed.

Batman eyed him in mild surprise. “Why are you upset?”

“I’m not,” lied Clark.

 

***

 

“Clark, dear,” said Martha, when she came home from her shift at the restaurant in town.

“Yes, Ma?”

“Why is my refrigerator handle missing?”

Clark blushed. “Er.”

Martha eyed the communicator in Clark’s hands and quirked a brow. “Does this, by any chance, have something to do with Batman?”

Clark hadn’t realized he was fiddling with the communicator. He put it back down on the table. “No?”

“Don’t lie to your mother, dear.”

Clark scowled. “Fine. Maybe.”

“Did you two quarrel?”

“No, nothing of the sort.” Clark sighed. “It’s just...well. I was wondering how he feels about me,” he mumbled, ducking his head.

“Oh, honey.” Martha kissed her son’s cheek. “That boy is hard to read,” she admitted. “But he _flies his plane_ out here every two weeks to see you. I’d say that has to count for something, hmm?”

“I don’t know.” Clark shrugged helplessly. “Maybe he comes because you invite him. Maybe he’s just being polite.” He sighed again sadly.

Martha chuckled. “He came out here the _first_ time because I invited him. But it’s not _me_ he keeps coming back to see.”

 

***

 

“So,” said Clark, “I was wondering.”

They had gone for a walk in the field behind the farm after dinner, and were now lying side by side in the middle of the field, looking up at the stars. It was a cool, cloudless night, the gentle breeze refreshing.

“Wondering what?” prompted Batman, when Clark didn’t continue.

Clark grimaced. “Actually – never mind.”

Batman sat up, staring down at Clark. “What’s the matter?”

Clark sighed. “Look, promise you won’t kill me for this.”

Batman narrowed his eyes at Clark. “ _What did you do?_ ”

“Nothing. Yet.”

“I let you get away with way too much already,” grumbled Batman. “Besides, I thought we were past the wanting to kill each other bit.”

Clark shrugged, affecting nonchalance. His heart was pounding. “You might change your mind about that after this.”

He sat up and leaned over, pressing his lips to Batman’s. Batman stiffened in surprise, lips remaining still and closed beneath Clark’s. Clark drew back quickly, flushing with mortification, already starting to apologize, but Batman grabbed his arm, preventing him from pulling away completely.

“Clark – ”

“I’m sorry, I thought – ”

“Clark. Wait.” Batman, uncharacteristically, hesitated for a fraction of a second. “I just want to be sure...you _do_ know who I am, right?”

Clark stared at him. “Is that a trick question?”

Batman gestured impatiently with his free hand. “Under the mask. I assume you’ve seen my face, with the whole...x-ray vision...thing that you have going on.”

“Oh. Actually, I never looked,” said Clark. “It didn’t feel, well, _right_ – we weren’t friends, back then, but you weren’t really an enemy, either.”

Batman blinked. He considered Clark for a long moment, then smiled suddenly.

“Only you,” he sighed ruefully, shaking his head. “Well. If we’re going to do this...”

Reaching up, he slowly and deliberately pulled off his cowl.

“Huh,” said Clark.

Bruce Wayne raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You have hat hair,” said Clark, stifling a smile.

Bruce’s other eyebrow joined the first. “Anything else?”

Clark grinned. “ _Now_ can I kiss you?”

 

***

 

“Clark?” Martha Kent called, standing at the foot of the stairs. “Breakfast’s almost ready.”

There was the creak of a door opening, then Clark appeared at the top of the stairs, yawning and bare-chested, hair tousled with sleep and curling at the ends. “’Morning, Ma. Er...just a minute – ”

He disappeared back into his room, and Martha heard the low murmur of voices. Clark reappeared at the top of the stairs, looking sheepish.

“Tell Batman to stop hiding in your room and come down for breakfast, dear,” said Martha.

Clark blushed bright red, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “We’ll be right down.”

 

 

– End –

 


End file.
